


Masks

by Niofomune



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Van and Stef would hate each other if they met both in their teens, Van feels guilty for everything he did with everyone through his entire life, so just Van being Van
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niofomune/pseuds/Niofomune
Summary: Why the age gap is the only thing that keeps Van and Stef from murdering each other.





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> So that's an old fic that I decided to translate and post it here. It's a part of my great challenge to actually learn writing in English. Also, I love this ship.  
> Thanks to typhe who was a great help with this text <3

It was weird. When you’d lived with Heralds long enough, you started to get used to weird, but that didn’t seem to reduce the weirdness. Stefen had no idea why he should be reading a book about weather magic right now, but he was, and it seemed right and important. The door creaked somewhere behind him and even if he knew it was Vanyel, because of their lifebond, this time something was not right. He looked over his shoulder.

It was Vanyel, but at the same time it wasn’t. He looked as he must have years ago and, oh gods… Stefen always claimed that his bondmate was absolutely and beguilingly beautiful and he loved every detail of him, but a Herald’s life had pressed marks of hardship on him and made him somehow more human, more of flesh and blood. Vanyel at the age of sixteen didn’t have any of that fatigue and weariness – not a wrinkle under his eyes, not a silver strand in his hair – and as poetic and hyperbolic as it sounded, he looked like a living statue from a great temple, or a character from a masterful painting. Stefen felt dizzy to recognize Vanyel’s familiar features in this changed face.

But then Vanyel noticed that he wasn’t not alone, and his face instantly transformed into a mask of distrust and hostility. Stefen knew so well how it worked – he had spent weeks, _months_ on ripping of those masks: of official indifference, duty, natural reserve and, finally, his insistence on treating Stef coldly – but that particular one was far over his strength. He felt the backlash of a denied lifebond and now, when he knew where to find it, he shivered. Not that he hadn’t fought with that feeling for months, but he had never felt the reaction so strongly and relentlessly.

_Gods, if that’s how Tylendel felt, maybe I’ll start to pity him a bit?_

“Savil was called for a Circle meeting,” he said and was surprised by the timbre of his own voice.

“Was she?” That was all Vanyel replied, with a visible lack of interest.

His pose was so full of superiority and nonchalance that Stefen felt close to lashing out, but he managed to stop himself. He _knew_ it was Vanyel, and that he didn’t mean any of this, and it was only his way of defending himself. But Stefen spent half of his life fighting with arrogant, aristocratic assholes trying to disrupt his life in the Bardic Collegium. Seeing the same reaction on _that_ face was just too much. It hurt too much.

But he couldn’t say anything, and Vanyel turned away with the intention of leaving. How well Stefen knew that graceful way he held his head and that beautiful profile, but everything else about Vanyel was so deeply wrong… The Vanyel he knew was like light – not the sun but more like the moon, sometimes so distant and unreachable, but still covering everything in silver brightness – and not only because of heraldic Whites. And _this_ Vanyel was inhumanly beautiful, but he was a patch of starless night. _That_ wasn’t his Vanyel, and it didn’t matter how beautiful he looked, or that he hadn’t suffered all those hardships yet – or maybe it was because of that. This was a shadow that his Vanyel cast, before he became the man he was now -

 

Stefen woke up so suddenly that for a moment he didn’t know where and when he was. But then he was back in reality, and realized that the dream didn’t end by itself. His lifebond wasn’t denied here, not anymore, and he just knew.

“Van- _ashke_ , bad dream?” He reached out without a second thought.

He felt Vanyel shaking under his fingers. He didn’t explain anything, just pulled Stefen closer and hid his face in his shoulder, clenching his hands like a drowning man. Stefen held him close, and stroked his hair gently, regretting he could offer only this little comfort.

He remembered that mask of hostility and distrust, and couldn’t believe that deep down there was this man he held in his arms now. Just how many layers of defense he must have removed to bring him out to light.

Slowly Vanyel calmed down, or at least stopped shaking.

“Sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice. Stefen expected this – it didn’t matter how many times he replied the same:

“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve lived through enough to have nightmares for the next few lives.”

Vanyel continued with hesitation and so much guilt Stefen felt it as if through Empathy. “I dreamed about ‘Lendel.”

Stefen didn’t cease his calming touch.

“Guess we had the same dream.”

“Stef…” Vanyel didn’t look like he was going to move from his comfortable position, so his voice was muffled and quiet. “You’re not angry?”

“Why should I be, in your opinion?”

“’Lendel…” And he just couldn’t keep on.

Stefen moved back to look into his eyes, which were filled with uncertainty and, of course, guilt.

“Van- _ashke_ …” Stef held his face so he couldn’t escape. “How could I be angry, because you loved someone before? I’m glad, because I have no idea what shape you’d be in if you hadn’t. I only regret that I wasn’t there for you earlier, when you needed it.”

He saw in his eyes that look of embarrassment and affection that wasn’t covered by any mask or pose anymore.

“Stef… What have I ever done to deserve you?”

He pretended that he was wondering.

“It must have been something really terrible. You sure you’d never kicked puppies or little, yellow ducklings?”

“Stef! I’m serious!” Vanyel sounded indignant but there was a hint of smile at his face.

“Serious, is it? Let’s see: maybe for the last twenty years you protected Valdemar with your life and were wounded so many times you probably can’t even remember, from dawn to dusk you carry on your own duties and everyone else’s, you feel personally responsible for the functioning of the country and do everything you can to keep it running, and you’re there every time someone needs you but you never reach for help yourself. If the gods took an interest in Valdemar they’d probably be mortally offended that you’re doing their job.”

They were so close that Stefen could send him through their bond the image that was stuck in his mind: a gentle, silver moonlight brightening everything around.

“You ask a Bard for an opinion…” sighed Vanyel, but it was clear that he was deeply moved.

“And it was really nice that you asked.” Stefen couldn’t hide how proud he was of himself. “And now sleep, because you’ll be half-awake tomorrow, and I’ll be unfairly accused over that. If you have any more nightmares _I’ll_ take care of them.”


End file.
